Gems Gathered in Haste eBook

This word seldom begins an article in a newspaper,
but “cruelty” or “murder”
more often instead. It is a pleasure to record
an act of kindness; painful that we have not frequent
opportunities. Yet such an act made our heart
glad, filled it with a new love for our kind, only
a day or two since. A school-girl, about ten years
of age, was passing, with a smaller school-girl in
her arms, whom she carried with much difficulty; for
the weather was sultry. Other children were in
company, with books in their hands. The whole
party stopped to rest under the shade of a tree.
Just then, a gentleman observed the group. His
attention was particularly attracted by the child,
still supported by the arm of her friend. “What’s
the matter, my little Miss?” he inquired, in
his kind, soft tone. “She’s sick,
sir,” replied the friend. “And are
you taking her home?” “I’m trying,
sir.” “How far off does she live?”
“Down by the Long Bridge.” “A
mile or more! and you would carry her through the
hot sun! no shade on the way either!” “I
must try, sir,” answered the school-girl.
“No, you must not,” said the kind gentleman,
“it would kill both of you.” A carriage
passed at this moment. A word and a waving arm
caused it to draw up to the pavement. All the
party entered it, and all right merry, except the sick
one; but even she looked up with a faint smile, fixing
her large, tender eyes on the face of the stranger.
The driver had been instructed fully as to his destination,
had been paid too, and now drove away. “Poor
little girl!” said the gentleman to himself,
in a low voice. “Good bye, sir!”
said all the children, in a high tone.

—­Washington News.

A BRAVE BOY.

An interesting little boy, who could not swim, whilst
skating on our river on New Year’s Day, ran
into a large air-hole. He kept himself for a
time above water: the little boys, all gathered
round the opening, tried to hand him poles; but the
ice continued breaking, and he was still floating
out of reach. Despair at last seized his heart,
and was visible in every face around. At this
moment, when, exhausted, the poor little fellow was
about to sink, a brave and generous-hearted boy exclaimed,
“I cannot stand it, boys!” He wheeled round,
made a run, and dashed in at the risk of his own life,
and seized the little boy and swam to the edge of
the ice with him: after breaking his way to the
more solid ice, he succeeded in handing him out to
his companions, who then assisted him out. In
Rome, this act of heroism would have insured this
brave youth a civic crown. His name is Albert
Hershbergar.

—­Charleston (Va.) Republican.

* * * * *

I know a little girl who has committed this to memory.
Let all little girls and boys who read it do the same,
and they will have music worth listening to in their
own hearts.